


the thorn in my side

by existentialspacecowboy



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But I guess JJ just doesn't know how friendships work, Even though we all know Jim is fine after, I tagged major character death just in case, M/M, Star Trek: Into Darkness, This has probably been done before, bones should have been there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-07 23:20:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21225905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/existentialspacecowboy/pseuds/existentialspacecowboy
Summary: A re-write of the infamous Star Trek Into Darkness radiation chamber scene ft. Bones in the place of SpockI've had this written for years and I'm only just posting it now. I know it's like 6 years too late but here you go anywayThis is dedicated to everyone else who was annoyed by Bones' lack of screen time in STID





	the thorn in my side

**Author's Note:**

> "In this galaxy, there's a mathematical probability of three million earth-type planets...and in all the universe, three million galaxies like this one. And in all of that, and perhaps more, only one of each of us. Don't destroy the one named Kirk."

Leonard was in medbay when he was called. 

After the devastation Khan had unleashed, Leonard was desperately busy. His attention caught and immeasurably strained between tending to Carol's splintered leg and attempting to hold down the contents of his own stomach. He mopped his brow, panting heavily and occasionally mumbling something incoherent under his breath but his hands remained remarkably steady in stark contrast to the violent rocking of the Enterprise. He feared the worst. Who wouldn't, especially in odds such as these? Forget about high stakes poker without cards. Forget about damn getaway cars with flat tyres. He'd been on the Bridge enough times to know that this wasn't good. Shields at 6%. Stabilisers gone. Plummeting at an alarming rate towards the Earth. He didn't fear death, as a doctor you couldn't, but he feared the incoming impact. He feared that, most of all, he would be deprived of the new life which he'd been granted ever since he joined Starfleet. Ever since he met Jim Kirk. Dying without Jim Kirk by his side had never featured as part of his agenda.

Suddenly, the Enterprise steadied.

Bones frowned, relieved. Carol shot a glance in his direction, “What happened?”

“It’s a miracle,” a nearby nurse suggested with a faint smile. 

“No,” Leonard said, feeling an increasing sense of dread rising up from the pit of his stomach. “There’s no such thing as miracles."

That's when he realised. That's when he knew.

Moments afterwards, Mr Scott's voice echoed eerily from the medbay comm. The man's voice was heavy, but not with fear, with grief. It was a grief for someone not yet lost. The doctor's head jolted upwards, the world around him stilling, all eyes falling upon him.

"Engineering to medbay. Dr McCoy?"

A pause, a silent panic, as the foundations of Leonard's world began to crumble and falter. "Scotty?"

"You'd better get down here. Better hurry."

Bones looked at Carol, their glances of mutual understanding, her own eyes pleading a silent message, "Go to him."

Leonard, on many occasions, experienced the pain of having to tell a patient that they were dying, that's why he tried to stay distant. But being told that a friend -his best friend- was dying was as if the diagnosis were his own. The pain. The anger. The helplessness. It was all too familiar and a truth he wished not to believe. He cared so dearly and much too tenderly, hence the man's occasionally gruff bedside manner. However, those closest to him knew that had only ever been a facade, to hide the truth that, deep down, he cared too much.

His stomach churned violently, eating away at itself; the rising sickness journeying up towards his chest. Sharp intakes of breath caused a burning sensation deep between the spindles of his ribs before slowly creeping up his oesophagus, like a forest fire, it claimed his speech. His feet slammed heavily against the floor, but still, his hands remained unshaken. When he reached Engineering, he locked eyes with Scotty. Their eyes both telling the same story, one of anger, sadness and defeat. Scotty remained silent, just shaking his head slowly. The silence was worse than any condolences the man could offer. Bones brushed past the engineer, his eyes glazing over with tears as he examined the glass door between himself and the radiation chamber. 

Between himself and Jim.

"Open it," Bones mustered. His throat dry and his voice rasping. "Please.”

His gaze was pleading, even though his heart knew full well that opening the door would kill him too. Maybe that would be better. Better than living with the emptiness which he felt.

"The decontamination process is not complete. You'd flood the whole compartment. The door's locked, doctor," Scotty informed, his own voice mirroring that of the doctor's. Bones knelt beside the glass door, tapping it gently and forcing a small smile to attract Jim's attention.

Jim turned to face Bones, their eyes locked. Bones noted the bloodshot rivers which ran across Jim's eyes knowing that there was nothing he could do. He'd felt helplessness before, but never had it felt like this. Never had he been unable to hold someone in their last moments. Leonard leaned his forehead against the glass in defeat before a voice finally broke the silence.

"How's our ship?" Jim asked steadily. 

"She's safe," Leonard nodded.

"Good."

"You saved us," the brunet continued, his hand reaching to scramble at the harsh surface of the glass.

"You used what Khan wanted against him. Nice move."

"Whole thing was Spock's idea. Just did what I could." Another forced smile. A pause. "God, Jim, why this?"

"You would've done the same knowing there was no other way. Guess it just made sense. Could say it was logical," Jim reasoned with the slightest trace of a wry smile pulling at his lips. 

Bones tried to fight back the tears, mustering a small chuckle, "Logical? My God man, you're turning into Spock."

A small tear escaped from Jim's ice blue eyes, "I'm scared, Bones. I'm not done yet. I want more time."

Bones blinked, tears trailing down his own cheeks and his voice cracking on the last syllable, "I know, darlin'..." He ran a hand through his hair, the slightest of tremors beginning to emerge in his fingers before gathering more closely against the glass, longing for Jim to feel some of his warmth, some of his touch, some of anything. 

"I couldn't let you die in space," the captain rallied. “I made a promise to you.” He needed Leonard to know why he’d done what he’d done, and why this was for the best. He needed Bones to know –

"Shush, darlin'. It’s okay."

Bones placed his hand on the glass which separated them, a violent shake now apparent in it. Jim raised his own hand to meet Leonard's; the two friends separated by the sheet of glass at a time when they needed, more than ever, to be side by side. Jim's eyes were slowly beginning glaze over, the flickering light of life behind them was slowly beginning to extinguish. Bones edged his face closer to the glass, a choked sob escaped his lips.

"Jim, stay with me. Stay with me. I'm askin' you listen to me just this once, stubborn ass."

Jim smiled again before he exhaled deeply, "See you around, Bones."

Memories filled the space between them; they played on reel behind Leonard's eyes, just as they had when he thought his own death was upon him. He thought of the shuttle. Their shared dorm back at the Academy. The sleepless nights and busted lips. The Kobayashi Maru. The swelling pride he'd felt at Jim's ascension to Captain, and all the times he'd thanked his lucky stars for Iowa and everything since. Most of all, he thought on the times he'd laughed because of Jim and only ever Jim.

"Don't –don't do that,” his voiced snapped. "Meeting you on that shuttle turned my life around. We might fight like a griping ol' couple but you're my best friend, ain't anyone who's gonna take that away from me."

The blond's quaking lips formed a final small smile, his face frozen that way. His eyes fell away from Bones' and his hand slipped down the glass, coming to its final resting place in his lap.

"No," Leonard’s voice came, empty and cold, as he removed his own hand from the glass. 

Eyes raw from crying, he slumped to the floor, bringing his knees up into his chest, his hands locked together and resting atop his head. The silence in Engineering was only disturbed by his sorrow and the occasional whirr of the decontamination process. 

Leonard felt a hand on his shoulder, and Spock knelt beside him. 

The two men set aside their animosity and, in that moment, for the first time, they were both thinking and feeling the same; utterly united in loss and in grief. Spock placed his hand underneath the doctor's arm, gently lifting him to his feet. Bones was surprised to find that his legs didn't give way. He just stood stoic and still, utterly unmoving. His eyes glossed over the expressions of Uhura and Scotty who stood vigil nearby; the lieutenant offered to accompany Leonard, but he just shook his head, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.

The doctor walked back towards the medical bay; his head throbbing and his hands shaking. He could hear the sound of his own heartbeat echoing in his ears, heart rattling inside the cage of his chest. This numbed the sounds of voices, the sounds of apologies and condolences, something which Bones was thankful for. But one sound would stay with him forever.

"Khan."

That was all the scream said.

Hearing the Vulcan shriek with such agony, such pain and such emotion caused the strings in Leonard's heart to tighten, rendering him breathless.

That was when the pain struck him. It hit with the force of a wave. It consumed him, making him feel like he was falling and, with Jim gone, there was no one there to catch him. The grief flooded his lungs. Leonard knew what grief could do, the devastation it caused. Grief was a cruel mistress known to chew you up and spit you out on an unfamiliar shore, bruised, bloodied, battered. Bones knew that grief changed people. People were reborn out of grief –if it didn't kill you first.

With the sound of Spock's cry still echoing in his ears, the doctor finally reached medbay. The exhaustion he felt overwhelmed him. He remained silent, even when Carol placed her hand on his. He stood, staring at a gurney. The gurney which would soon bear the dead weight of his best friend, of his Jim. Bones rolled up his sleeves, his hands quaking. He held them before his face, before Carol took his hand once again and laid it against the harsh metal surface of the gurney.

"Dr. McCoy, I didn't know him all that well but I could tell that he was a good man. A good friend."

Carol squeezed Bones' hand tightly but he couldn't bring himself to look at her, he could tell that she too was crying. It was something he chose not to see so his eyes remained fixed to the floor. Leonard flexed his hands, fixing them into tight balls before releasing. It was essential that he carry on; it was what Jim would want. He knew that much, carrying on was all he could do.

The medical bay gradually filled, the effect suffocating, as Jim's limp and lifeless body was laid in front of him. Carol stood staring at the body of a man she had hardly known. Chekov was on the periphery and Scotty placed a hand on Leonard's shoulder, the engineer's eyes looking on watchfully as Bones delicately placed his fingers on Jim's eyelids, softly drawing them to a close.

Still warm. Jim was still warm.

He imagined that Jim was just resting. That he'd wake up at any moment and make some stupid, half assed joke that Leonard would pretend not to laugh at.

But he didn’t. Jim stayed quiet, and Leonard hated that the most.

The doctor prepared for his examination. It was part of his job. A formality. Something that he just had to do. Instead, he turned away from the gurney, trailing his hand along the edge of it. So cold, he thought, it's going to make Jim cold.

Pulling out his desk chair, he descended slowly into it. His gaze met once again with Jim's lifeless form and he flinched at the sight of it. If he was going to remember Jim, he wanted a better a memory. A time when they'd smiled or gotten drunk together. Not this. Anything but this. He began to cry once again, not a sob or a whimper, just silence. A tear rolled down his cheek, but Bones made no effort to wipe it away. His energy was spent and his limbs heavy. He brought a hand up to his face, resting his head against it in defeat.

But then there was a hum of machinery and a delicate trill and, suddenly, there was hope.


End file.
